


Walking on empty

by Pattes_de_Fruits



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: and their words are just whispers and lies that I'll never believe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 02:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19032460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pattes_de_Fruits/pseuds/Pattes_de_Fruits
Summary: Written for StarWarsFictober of 2017. Day 7: Absent





	Walking on empty

The class had happened in the Gardens by a small clear stream of water. As he had been listening to its gentle tinkling flow, he had heard — several times, admittedly — _“Anakin”_ , bringing him back to the teacher, to the other Jedi apprentices, to the class.

“Absent-minded” had been reported to Master Obi-Wan: _Lack of attention, distracted, a misstep to take back, head in the clouds_. From day one, he had tried to be perfect but had been the sticking up nail that called the hammer: Dangerous. For all his efforts and progress he thought he made, it was always what was said of him, from teachers and students alike, so much that he was ready to question if he wasn’t journeying in another reality, or if perhaps he was living at a different speed than them (though if he was too fast or too slow was still to be determined). From his point of view, he was doing his best. He just hadn’t expected Qui-Gon’s words to mean that training to be a Jedi would be a challenge _for him_. Apparently, freedom did not equate to equality in the core worlds either.

“Young Skywalker, is this constantly interrupting us of yours the means you have found to attract attention on yourself and express your pride of being the foreign newcomer we should wonder at? You are not impressing us, and your’s is not the Jedi way. Being a Jedi means coming from the Jedi Order, and being the Order: No more, no less. I will advise you to learn your place and take our teachings seriously.”

The floor was of a hard polished stone, intransigent.

Why? How could that be? What was he doing wrong? He had been concentrating, watching, listening carefully, taking notes and studying as was their custom, practicing, repeating, examining and questioning everything, trying to understand and to learn… 

… _Trying_ , and not doing...

...because he had yet to grow into his peers’ habits, but no one would be able to explain him what they were doing unconsciously. 

...and that was why they were not his peers.

No one could understand that the gardens with the stream of water could still amaze him. No one could understand that he wasn’t proud of being the foreign newcomer, but that he was this foreign newcomer, wondering at them: At their cleanness and order and greatness.

The way they held themselves, how they walked, why they worked, the way they talked, what they ate, everything up to their breathing was different. And just like he had hesitated to call the whips of air of Coruscant “wind”, as different as they were from what he had called so on Tatooine, he didn’t know if he could simply say they were “breathing”. It wasn’t what he was doing. At each intake, he could feel the oxygen run into their whole bodies, going, flowing all over it, giving them calm, countenance, even a blessing and other sentiments he didn’t imagine, long and steady. He never went that deep.

It was as if their bodies were empty where his was full of sand. He had some in his lungs, in his brain, in his heart, and everywhere in his memory. The air would never be able to flow through him like it did with them. Not only was he too old, he was also too full: Too messy, dirty and loaded.

They weren’t confused. They repeated words and gestures like they were natural and ingrained, their attitude incorporated from a very young age that he hadn’t spent here. Their bodies knew the tasks that left him at a loss, having to ask around what this or that meant and why it was so, and how to do it all. They knew how to be a Jedi the way he knew how to pilot a pod: instinctively, and they didn’t want to try and explain.

So then, how was he absent-minded? He was the one thinking about what he was doing when they were going through it mechanically.

Meditation… Emptying your mind, and keeping it clear. Emptying it again if anything comes back in.

His honest questions just did not sound valid to anyone here. Thinking about it, he didn’t know if he wanted to be as _empty_ as they were. Where was their _desire_ to help people? Where were their _dreams_ to change the galaxy for the better, and _fantasies_ of their future as a Jedi spreading hope wherever it was needed, where was their _will_ to be free and free in return?

What was the point of breathing deeply if it wasn’t to release a hurricane?

The Force whispered… Let a sand storm ravage the temple of their body and bring a krayt dragon to chase them into screaming real breaths.

Just as it was doing so, sitting on a meditation pad facing Master Obi-Wan in the quietness of his quarters, he was torn between following this wish, and releasing it into the Force. Feeling guilty, for being torn was not the Jedi way.


End file.
